yesterday morning i was scrubbing the inside of a refrigerator, in a state of perfect happiness. my auntie margie was at the sink washing the shelving, my auntie doris was examining the expiration dates on sauces, dipping her finger in to taste the myriad bottles of unlabeled liquids, and my auntie janet was chirping away about how the first thing she did during her vacation was to do the very same thing in her home, to unload and wash the entire inside of her own fridge. sticky teriyaki sauce was flicked into my face, and damp towels were moving fast around the room, auntie janet was chiding my aunties for refusing to pause their work so they could recycle the bottles they were throwing out.
and it was wonderful to work alongside my aunties. even when i was asked to crawl inside two cavernous refrigerators. with them i am the tall one, the young one, and that’s reason enough for them to send me scurrying up and down the stairs and reaching down behind the stove and cabinets to retrieve long forgotten items. the morning went by fast because i spent so much of it marveling at my aunties, who are unstoppable. after over a month of nonstop cooking, the kitchen was a mess, and we had gathered to make a dent in the cleanup.
it was just a few of us yesterday morning. and there was so much cleaning to be done. we started at noon and finished in a few hours. the stove, the sink, boxes of dirty dishes, two refrigerators, tables, the floor, the hallway, the sewing room floor. auntie margie, who lives on the ground floor apartment, took over the lead. auntie doris became her deputy, and the rest of us filled in as worker bees.
i don’t remember there being many moments of silence, but they will fill the air with chatter about nothing in particular. naturally, my aunties spend a lot of time talking about food. the correct preparation of it, the best places to eat it, the best prices and at what times and from which proprieters to buy it. yesterday, my auntie margie was so happy to find a bag of blocks of chocolate in the refrigerator. “ah! give that to me. i’m going to teach maria to make good brownies,” she said with a devious cackle. maria is another one of my aunties, a fine cook in her own right, who just happens to be my auntie margie’s daughter in law. it was a touchy and uncharacteristically frank comment, especially in my family where there are few bad cooks and every meal is a gourmet affair and the biggest flaw for a woman is to be an inadequate cook, so even gentle ribbing like that is kind of surprising to hear. (no one’s tried eloping, or dropping out of college, or having a kid out of wedlock yet.)
but when i’m with my aunties i can overlook their flaws–their outdated ideas about relationships and propriety, an unquestioning commitment to binary gender norms, their total disdain for recycling and understandable love of styrofoam–because i feel nothing but love for them. they disappoint me sometimes, yes, they say things that i’d never let my mother get away with. one of my aunties still refers to mixed race folks as “half and half,” like the coffee creamer, no matter a person’s racial makeup. i’ll wince but have never challenged them–a responsibility of mine that i shirk regularly. but i’m incapable of feeling anything besides reverence for my aunties. it is all love, all acceptance, all adoration.
my aunties are quick, sharp, sturdy women. together my auntie margie and auntie doris are decisive and fast. they wash quickly, move methodically, are organized and swift. they work hard. they never complain, but neither do they celebrate or give praise often. at the end of yesterday, my auntie margie said repeatedly, “i am so happy! i am so happy! this kitchen is clean,” and it surprised me as the first real demonstrative statement i’d heard her make in probably ever. my aunties don’t ask a lot of questions, or really wonder aloud why they work so hard, they just do. they work and work and work tirelessly. and their devotion to the family is something amazing to see, because we are all beneficiaries of their unwavering selflessness. and they are in their 70s. they are strong among strong.
i know stories i’m attracted to are filled with human characters, people with demons and rough edges. and that’s why every time i consider writing about my aunties, i usually give up. i’m afraid that everything i want to say about them won’t make for intriguing prose. who wants to read endless loving tributes? i guess that was what i was really thinking about when i was inside that refrigerator yesterday. but my determination to get something down about my aunties forced me to accept that they are imperfect. they are human, even if i love them as goddesses and superhuman beings.
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perfect happiness, elsewhere: wednesday night of my first LA trip to cover the trial. i had a car–partly because i still had my license then–and i was pulling out of appu’s union headquarters, where i’d parked my car while we went to her coworker’s place in silverlake. they were trying to start a bimonthly tradition, the week before the organizers had cooked for a handful of staff, and that week it was the researchers’ turn. we had a vegan feast, sweet potato enchiladas, kale, a jicama and pear salad, the best peanut butter and chocolate cupcakes. appu’s coworker lived in the kind of darling apartment that only exists in tv–this vaguely mediterranean inspired complex that had a courtyard, kind of like melrose place but sweeter, and with no swimming pool (and therefore, probably not nearly as many stabbings and miscarriages and adultery as the show). her apartment was too small for all of us, so we took the food outside and ate on her porch, by candlelight, the city lights scattered below, silhouettes of palm trees in the distance. a perfect LA night. really good people, delicious food, that goddamn gorgeous weather.
and i was driving back to koreatown, where i was staying that week. and i had the windows down, and the freeways were moving fast that night, and it felt like freedom. it felt like home, but also change. possibility, another chapter.
Filed under: aunties, los angeles, the trial, aunties, los angeles
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